Nature's Ultimate Cruelty
by MochaCocaFan
Summary: I know/The sickening thoughts that slither around your head/I know/The gluttonous guilt that buried me in your bed/Manipulate me if you can/Go on and fool me like your biggest fan...--Kabuto's simple, hard, revolting thoughts.--


Kabuto is _**sick.**_

God_** damnit,**_ he is sick. He is _**psychotic**_ on a level few can reach and fewer live in (_though it's debatable if he's actually **living** to normal people, but anyone insane at all, even just a little neurotic, would know that he **is** alive, and his **complete **lack of sanity is **precisely **what makes him so_) and even fewer can _**effortlessly**_ mask it when advantageous (_but only then, for the inevitable look of shock and anger and pure **terror** after they realize the truth is **hilarious** and so, **so** satisfying (satisfying to sick psychotic loony nutcase guiltless **freaks** like him, that is_). Only Uchiha Itachi is this level of absolutely _**batfuck**_ insane, and even he is not as _**sadistic**_ and _**masochistic**_ and **_lying_** and _**remorseless**_ and _**sociopathic**_ and _**bloodthirsty**_ and just plain _**sick**_ as Kabuto, but certainly is so much more restrained and emotionless, and Kabuto isn't that good at it yet, but he's getting better every day.

Kabuto is an accomplished, guiltless, pathological _**liar.**_

He's practically _**Oscar-standard**_ at acting, except his acting isn't on stage. It's when he's around _**anyone**_ that he isn't _**torturing**_ or _**stalking**_ or _**murdering**_ or _**experimenting**_ on or when he's just plain _**alone**_ (_not that it happens much, because Orochimaru-sama (though he doesn't deserve the suffix in the eyes of anyone not one of his crazed loyal brainwashed fans or sick psycho minions) doesn't want any assassins to sneak in the dead of night and **murder** him in his sleep (not that he gets much, mind you) and it's **illogical** and **inefficient **and just a plain **bloody waste of time** because it's more than likely that when Kabuto is killed (there **is** a difference between being killed, being murdered, and dying) it'll be by either his own hand, if his sanity ever returns (not going to happen; Kabuto transcended sanity the moment he laid eyes on his first corpse) or by a vengeful project with a rusty piece of rock from their cells_). And when he manages to get alone, the mask is gone. It shatters more violently than a Sound Four training session, and considering how _**angry**_ Tayuya is (_all the time it never stops) _and how _**vengeful**_ Sakon (_full of violent longing for steaming platters of revenge)_ is and how _**cruel**_ Ukon is (_more so than Stalin)_ and how _**sadistic**_ Kidomaru is (_but he has **nothing** on Kabuto_) and how **_huge_** Jirobo is, like a fattened giant ugly massive _**pig**_ ready to be slaughtered, the mask shatters really, _**really**_ violently.

Kabuto is _**twisted**_.

He's so twisted he's a _**human M****öbius strip**_, contorted and onesided. No matter how _**anyone**_ tried to convince themselves he's normal and nice and just a polite teenage with silver hair and glasses, they can _**never**_ shake the feel of complete uneasiness he puts into them. Particularly when he smiles. He smiles so _**scarily,**_ so _**terrifyingly**_ that he'd put the fear of God in Richard Dawkins, and even the _**toughest**_ piece of shinobi hoodlum _**shudders**_ internally, because that smile is the one of the _**batfuck**_ insane. That smile is the smile of someone who _**never**_ sleeps because they haven't the time. The smile of someone who can bring a corpse back to life with a kinjutsu so difficult that the famous Tsunade can't even _**begin**_ to comprehend the most _**basic**_ theory behind it. The smile of someone who could make the most _**powerful**_ and _**determined**_ and _**unstoppable **_and _**ambitious **_Jinchuuriki of all run screaming like a headless chicken with the vocal cords of an opera singer at the _**tiniest **_ glimpse of his silver hair and the reflection of his _**perfectly**_ circular (_because he's meticulous (more like **obsessed**) that way_) glasses. The smile of _**Kabuto.**_

Kabuto breaks every rule known to anyone with the _**slightest**_ hint of sanity in them.

He _**never**_ once just _**stops **_and _**thinks**_ about what he's doing, he never plans for anything except not to get _**caught**_ (_and sometimes not even **that** because it's not as if he's spying anymore and Orochimaru-sama doesn't give a flying **fuck** what Kabuto does so what's the point? Why waste the effort?). _Oh _**yes**_, Kabuto _**knows**_ the rules, he _**knows **_what _**normal**_ people consider right and wrong but you see, he doesn't _**care**_ one tittle (_not even slightly) _for rules. They mean absolutely _**nothing **_except as foolish limits which _**everyone**_ else seems to obey for _**no reason whatsoever **_and he just can't _**understand**_ it, _**any of it**_, _**not one teensy-weensy itsy-bitsy meensy-meensy litte bit. **_He knows they feel bad when they see pain, and that _**normal**_ people don't _**like**_ hurting others, but he doesn't even _**try**_ to comprehend precisely _**why**_ simply because it _**just doesn't add up**_. Other people put two and two together and get _**three hundred thirty-seven point one ten five eight nine twelve pi eight seven nineteen pi square root of i...**_

Kabuto is just plain _**crazy.**_

It's obvious, _**gapingly**_ so, (_like a massive hole burnt straight through a pretty concave starving stomach; so pretty, why did she scream and beg him to stop? It was like a very pretty makeover, very extreme but so very pretty) _and no-one sane in the slightest understands just _**why**_ he doesn't agree. He _**kills, **_he _**maims, **_he _**tortures,**_ he _**mutilates, **_he _**massacres,**_ and, covered in blood (_pretty bright crimson red scarlet tastes good mmm more please, pretty please with a virgin on top) _he sits on the corpses, the earth soaked in blood, the screams of the wounded (_holes in the stomach and blades in their hearts and bruises on their heads and their hair caked in vomit and their necks snapped and their bones crushed to pearly powder and their nerves fried and their guts tying them to the trees and their tendons snapped and their joints dislocated and their spirits dead with shock and agony and despair) _howling in the wind, the sobbing aching to anyone with a conscience left chilling, the icy silk of the deaded skin no longer warmed, and he smiles and just _**laughs.**_


End file.
